Proper Mixing
by Marzi
Summary: "Operating at the highest discretion doesn't mean we are subject to isolation and crippling loneliness."


A/N Idris. Elba. That is all.

* * *

**Proper Mixing**

Harry was very patiently coaching Eggsy through making a proper martini (a feat he was quickly realizing was a bit more difficult than the simple instructions sounded) when the front door opened.

"Babe, you home?"

Harry didn't bat an eye, though Eggsy just about snapped the stirring stick in his hand. It was made of crystal, which would have made breaking it quite the physical feat, (as well as a mess), so he was lucky that it simply dropped from his suddenly numb fingers. It whirled around the glass in his hand, caught up in the tide of his previous stirs.

"At the bar."

Eggsy gaped at Harry.

"The vermouth is over there." He indicated to the bottle Eggsy had been intently staring at until the door opened.

"What's going on, we having a party?"

The man in the doorway was so unexpected, Eggsy didn't have a surprised thought left for his appearance. He was tall, fit, and the dark blue of his RAF uniform stood out against the lighter colors on the lower floor of Harry's home.

Had he called Harry 'babe'?

Wait, was this _their_ home?

Eggsy's eyes darted around the room, searching in vain for some personal photo on the wall he might have missed. It was all pressed flowers and art prints. Honestly, if the man wasn't standing inside, he wouldn't have been able to spot it as Harry's home.

"Just a much needed lesson on proper mixing." Harry left his sentry by the bar, walking towards the man with a smile. "I wasn't expecting you home."

"Got on base and realized I forgot some files. Didn't want to send someone else to fetch them, was hoping to catch you."

Son of a marine and current super spy candidate, Eggsy could read the insignia on the man's uniform. Colonel. He would have been able to read his name tag too, if the front of his chest wasn't obscured by the armful of Harry he was currently making out with.

Excessive PDA didn't seem like a Harry, or a very gentlemenly, thing to do; then Eggsy remembered he was inside their home and quickly averted his eyes.

Jesus Christ. Harry had excellent taste in men. If he had been sitting at a table back at the Black Prince with his mates, he would have offered up his knuckles in a celebratory fist bump for the older man. As he stood now, he simply stared down at the half finished martini in his hand, and fervently prayed that he too would one day have a partner who looked like they walked straight off the pages of GQ to come home to.

"Who's our guest?"

"Ah yes, how terribly rude of me. Caleb, this is Eggsy. Eggsy, Caleb."

Since they were now obviously capable of speech, Eggsy deemed it was safe to raise his eyes. He tried to smile and offered up an awkward wave. He managed to spill his martini across his hand.

"Oh shit- oh fuck- I-"

Caleb laughed. "Just like you described."

Harry's smile dropped as he rolled his eyes.

Eggsy stopped trying to suck alcohol of his hand and stared at his mentor again. "You mentioned me?"

"Of course."

Did Caleb (Eggsy's eyes darted to his chest- _Pentecost_) know about Kingsman? Did Kingsmen have partners and families who were perfectly aware of what they were doing? He tried to imagine telling his mum, and all it did was make him feel dizzy.

"I'll try not to be offended that you obviously didn't mention me."

Harry's lips pursed, though his eyes were still far too amused for him to truly be annoyed. "I hardly had time to discuss personal matters."

Personal matters that weren't Eggsy's personal matters, anyway. Still, he would have thought _Oh by the way, I have an incredibly attractive RAF Colonel living with me_ would have come up sooner. Somewhere around tabloid headlines, and before proper martini making

Caleb also seemed to find the excuse wanting, as he simply stared at Harry. He had one hand on Harry's shoulder and the other clutched a strap of his gun holster, having used it earlier as leverage to pull him forward. Harry's hands very studiously smoothed the blue fabric of Caleb's uniform jacket, as if he had nothing to answer for.

"I thought you came home for a reason, don't you have a file to collect?"

"All right, I'll get on my way." He leaned forward for a quick kiss before throwing Eggsy a wink and moving up the stairs.

Harry's faux-annoyance was gone, and he was smiling pleasantly at the stairs. He had probably had an excellent view of Caleb's ass as he jogged up them.

"Harry."

His mentor turned to look at him, openly curious, as if he had not a clue as to what could be on Eggsy's mind.

"You've been holding out on me."

"With the good alcohol dripping off your hand, you can count on it in the future." He went back to the bar and handed Eggsy a small rag.

He took it quickly, setting down his glass. "That's not what I meant." He dried his hands, staring at them a moment to gather his words. "Why didn't you tell me about him?"

"I didn't think my personal life would be much of an interest to you."

In a way it wasn't, as Eggsy had never really considered it a possibility before. He felt like a fool for assuming he didn't have one. "I thought- well, Kingsman." He shrugged, unsure of how to finish his thought.

"Operating at the highest discretion doesn't mean we are subject to isolation and crippling loneliness."

Eggsy nodded, some tense part of him loosening up. It was comforting to know that he would not be expected to run it alone, other agents notwithstanding, if he did make the cut.

"I can't recommend using 'I'm an international spy' as a pick up line, but we are allowed our happiness."

Eggsy laughed at that, finally settling back into the ease he had felt when Harry had first brought up the martini lesson. One of the stairs creaked as Caleb descended, a file now tucked under one arm. He held up one finger and pointed it accusingly at Harry as he crossed over to him.

"A reason I wanted to catch you, Margaret wants to see you. She and the others still haven't forgiven you for missing all those months at Temple."

Months. Harry's coma. Had Caleb even been aware of where Harry was at that time?

Harry took hold of Caleb's outstretched hand, and their fingers quickly intertwined. "You did remind them that I am, in fact, not Jewish?"

"I'd rather not remind them I'm living with a gentile."

"Fair enough. Tell her if there's brisket involved, I might be tempted."

"Bribery, is it? What if I'm there?" He pulled at their clasped hands, bringing Harry into another embrace.

"That'll work too."

From the number of times they had come together in the past ten minutes, Eggsy couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he hadn't been there. How frequently did the two of them see each other? How often did Caleb wonder where Harry was? How frequently did Harry lay in an empty bed knowing Caleb was in an active war zone? Eggsy couldn't help but wonder if crippling loneliness was a better alternative to crippling worry.

Did they simply trust each other to always come home?

"Well Eggsy, it was a pleasure to meet you."

"Yeah, you too."

Caleb smiled, and Eggsy half expected to see another wink. Harry Hart, dating a total flirt. He never would have guessed it.

He simply pointed another remarkably intimidating finger. "I'll be seeing you around, I hope."

"Definitely."

"Well, gotta dash. Harry, remember-"

He nodded his head. "Margaret. Temple."

"No, not that."

"I love you too."

After one final kiss, where Caleb cupped Harry's jaw in his hand and sucked on his lower lip (Eggsy wasn't trying to stare, honest, it was just hard to tell if they were going to talk or go at it), he waved and finally headed out the door.

Eggsy used the rag in his hand to wipe at the mostly dry bar in the silence that followed. "Is that on the list of how to be a proper gentleman?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, unsure of the direction the line of inquiry was being taken.

"How to catch a man like that."

His mentor relaxed, easy smirk back in place. "That comes down to proper mixing."

"More martini making?"

"No, not that. Party mixing."


End file.
